


The Day the Whole World Went Away

by phaelsafe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Sassy, Work In Progress, pre-Wincestiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaelsafe/pseuds/phaelsafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses his angel and his brother; Sam loses his mind; Castiel breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimmykun](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kimmykun).



> There is no beta, only Zuul.

The moment Cas' head clears the surface of the reservoir, Dean is diving in after him despite everything the angel has put them through. 

Sam makes to follow, but somewhere between the violent pounding in his head and Bobby tightly grabbing his arm, he pauses. Dread fills him as the water begins to spiral suddenly, filling with an unnatural blackness that spreads out and away from the vortex. Too much time has passed, and Sam yanks free of the older hunter's grasp just as the shadows disperse. 

Then Dean is bobbing in the middle of the lake, treading in panicked circles as he scans the water for Castiel. 

"Dean!" Sam shouts, and Dean finally heads back, stumbling onto the shore and clutching at Cas' trenchcoat. He looks so very lost. 

\------ 

Only a few days have passed, but Dean's eyes are empty. When Sam is lucid, he feels just as hollow, but they keep each other company, rarely stepping beyond arm's reach for very long. Sam reminds Dean to eat, and Dean squeezes his younger brother's injured hand whenever Sam starts to see Lucifer. Sam isn't sure if the pain or the reassurance is what keeps the memories of Hell at bay. 

The house remains silent except for the sound of Bobby's concerned fidgeting that floats in from the kitchen -- the tapping of fingers across a keyboard, or the occasional gruff response when he responds to an unexpected phone call. Dean hasn't been sleeping well so it's not really a surprise that at some point he zonked out with his head against Sam's shoulder. Sam doesn't mind, and he idly plays with Dean's short hair as he contemplates trying to take a nap as well. The couch is plenty comfortable, but that's not really his- 

A startled bark from Bobby jerks him out from his thoughts. Dean sits up abruptly, somehow looking worse, his eyes shadowed and red. Sam really doesn't want to think about what his brother may have been dreaming about. 

"Got him!" Bobby calls as he tromps into the room. "A woman found him wandering through the woods not far from the reservoir. He's under observation at a hospital in Wichita." 

Something flutters in his belly, a mix of trepidation and excitement, but it immediately dissipates when he glances at Dean. 

Dean blankly observes the ceiling, and when he does eventually meet Sam's gaze, his green eyes flash with anger and guilt. 

"No," Sam orders softly. 

Dean's eyes dart away. "What...?" 

"Get up, Dean." Sam says, rising to his feet and wobbling as he pulls his brother up beside him. 

He prods Dean forward, and Bobby follows anxiously along behind them. "Let's go." 

\------ 

The drive is long and tedious. At some point, the Lucifer in his head begins to belt out _Ride of the Valkyries_ while Hellfire eats away at the lovely country scenery. Sam curls in on himself and tries to ignore it. When Dean can no longer handle the pained whimpers, he crawls into the backseat, unfolding Sam from his fetal position and straddling his lap in the cramped space. 

"Look at me, Sam," he demands, his palms cupping the sides of Sam's face. "It's not real." 

Sam just sighs and nods as Dean presses their foreheads together. When his brother pulls back, he brushes the hair away from Sam's damp face. Although he knows the angle must be awkward, Sam hugs Dean closer, and the quiet thud of Dean's heart drowns out the Devil's racket. 

\------ 

By the time they reach Wichita, Sam isn't doing much better. He keeps his arm looped through Dean's as Bobby makes up a story about how Cas was taken in by a religious cult, and how he went missing and his family was so worried- 

Sam peers around the nurse into the room. Cas is asleep, strapped to the bed and looking far too thin and pale in the provided hospital gown. 

"Why is he tied down?" Dean asks, his voice breaking around the words. 

"We had to sedate him. He kept trying to hurt himself." The nurse takes a step back as Dean narrows his eyes and glares at her. 

Sam breaks the hostility by stepping between them and into the room. "Cas?" he calls out. 

"Sir, he's been given a lot of-" the nurse starts, but she falls silent as Castiel's lids flutter about like he's trying to break loose from the grip of the medicine -- and when Dean's weighty presence slides into place around Sam, the angel's blue eyes snap open. "I'll just... go see about getting the discharge paperwork started...." 

\------ 

Now that Cas is with them, Sam's hallucinations are more vivid, but they happen less often. 

Cas picks at his food and barely sleeps, yet he has nightmares that rival Sam and Dean's. Bobby thinks Castiel is still an angel, but Castiel won't confirm or deny anything regarding the state of his Grace. He doesn't say much unless he has to, and Cas and Dean refuse to speak to each other at all. 

Dean, unable to take the tension, spends his time fixing the Impala. Cas sits on the steps, pretending to watch the sky instead of Dean. 

"Hey, Bobby?" Sam asks out of the blue. "Is there any ice cream in the house?" 

The other hunter looks up from his research -- they've been trying to find information on the leviathans -- and studies Sam. "Should be some in the freezer. What are you-" 

Sam shrugs. "Just a random thought," he says and stands up. 

\------ 

Cas spares a glance at the glass before directing a curious look at Sam. 

"It's a milkshake," Sam explains. "Chocolate." 

The sun is descending, and it's hot enough that Dean should be heading inside soon, assuming he's managed to deplete the supply of beer he hauls out daily in a cooler. 

Instead of responding, Cas lifts his face back up towards the heavens. 

"Oh, come on, Cas. The least you can do is give it a try," Sam teases softly. "It's comfort food. Figured out how to make them when we were kids, for when Dean would get upset if Dad was gone too long." 

"Fine," Cas says blandly as he snatches the ice cream up, and Sam isn't sure what he said to change Cas' mind, but he grins at the pleasantly surprised look that spread across the angel's face. 

As expected, Dean comes stomping up to the stairs while glaring at nothing in particular. 

"I made one for you too, Dean," announces Sam as his brother strides right past him and Cas. 

"No, thanks," Dean replies with an oddly sharp edge to his tone. 

Sam doesn't understand this standoff between Cas and Dean. He sees how they feel about each other, gets why Dean is upset with Cas -- Sam is the one who has to deal with every minute of every hour of every day of the consequences from Castiel bringing down Death's wall.... 

That panicky feeling wells up from within, and Lucifer starts to clamor for attention. Sam plays with the condensation dripping down the side of the glass in his hands and hollers over his shoulder, "Least you could do is show some gratitude, Dean!" 

Fingers pull his hand away from the glass, sliding lightly along the jagged scar on his palm, and the Devil breaks into static before disappearing completely. Cas doesn't withdraw, but continues to stare up into the sky as though he's trying to find something there. 

The porch door flies open, and Dean is suddenly looming over them. He nabs the remaining glass from Sam, kisses his brother on the temple, then heads back inside before the door can slam shut again. 

Sam opens his mouth, not entirely certain of what to reply with. 

"Thank you for watching out for me, Sammy," Dean's words drift out through the screen, beating Sam to the punch before the blurred shadow of his brother moves off deeper into the house. 

"Well, then," Cas announces, smiling softly and watching Sam as though he's finally found what he was searching for. 

Unable to bear the burden of the gaze, Sam turns to watch the clouds morph from one ambiguous shape to another as they float through the clear, blue sky.


	2. Chapter 2

When he manages to fall asleep, Sam's dreams range from unpredictably bizarre to downright Hellish. Lucifer is almost always the cause, too.

Sam doesn't remember dropping off to sleep at all. He had been sitting at the table with Castiel and Bobby, eating breakfast, and then-

He's in a forest, and the gray trees, bare of any foliage, stretch up into an empty gray sky. The only source of light comes from somewhere off in the distance, glowing like the moon as it breaks over the horizon; it's can't be the moon though -- it's too close. Sam wanders in that direction.

This has to be a dream, which makes it all so much more surreal that Sam recognizes he's sleeping.

Suddenly, he's standing at the edge of a wide clearing. There, resting peacefully in the middle of the dry, silvery grass is Cas. He's asleep on his stomach, his arms cradling his head. Broad, blue-black wings curl up from his shoulders, then fold loosely across his back.

The angel is illuminating the glade, radiating a warm glow that contrasts starkly with the drab neutrality of the rest of Sam's dream.

"Cas?" he breathes out softly, takes a step forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," warns a familiar voice.

Sam turns to see Lucifer -- of course -- leaning against a nearby tree. Rolling his eyes, he turns back to Castiel, intent on ignoring the archangel as he has been for weeks now-

Lucifer appears at his side, a gentle yet steady hand gripping Sam's elbow. "Please."

Sam jerks away, his eyes wide with fear as he spins to face Lucifer. The archangel has never been able to touch him, to interact with Sam directly like that.

Raising his hands in reconciliation, Lucifer backs away slowly, as though Sam might do something rash at any moment. "I just-"

"How are you.... You're real," Sam says, unable to believe the words falling from his lips, yet he knows he's right.

Lucifer tilts his head, his brows drawing together as he frowns. "Of course I am. What do you-" he stops then, realization sinking in. He watches the sleeping form behind the hunter, fury spreading across his features. "Right."

"No! He didn't- well, he did, but-" Sam invades Lucifer's space, anger igniting within him as he shoves the archangel back. "If you want to throw around blame, we should start at the beginning, with everything you've done wrong! Me, Cas, Dean -- we're all broken because of you, because of Michael."

Lucifer looks hurt. "I didn't bring down that wall."

Sam's jaw drops and he grabs Lucifer, twisting fingers into coarse material as he snarls, "You- _you_ are the reason it had to be put up in the first place!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Lucifer says, but he smiles, his eyes lighting up with a pretentious air that only archangels ever manage to pull off. It falls away though, in stages, leaving Lucifer looking empty in a way that terrifies Sam. "You did it to yourself, Sam. When you said 'yes.'"

"What do you-" Sam shifts, but he doesn't slacken his grip even when Lucifer wraps long fingers around his wrists.

Life, or whatever it is that animates angels, bleeds back into Lucifer, and he does little more than hold on to Sam. Then he tilts his head again, watching the hunter through his lashes. "I left a hole in you here-" he releases one wrist and taps Sam on the chest, then his temple "-or here, depending on how you look at it. I tried to minimize the damage as much as possible, but I guess that wasn't enough."

"Well," Lucifer says with a roll of his eyes, "it was enough for you to break through my control and throw us back into the Cage...." Arms dropping to his sides, Lucifer meets Sam's still furious gaze. "We aren't that much different than you and Dean -- Michael and I. We both thought we were doing the right thing."

Sam snorts derisively. "The road to Hell-"

"Turns out we were wrong."

The sincerity rings true -- dangerously so -- and Sam lets go. He takes a worried step away, but Lucifer snatches him back, fingers curling around Sam's wrists harshly. Fear flashes through Sam and he turns his head, glances at the ground. The fingers become soft and repentant, then hands frame his face.... Sam doesn't bother trying to break away from the archangel.

"I'm sorry, Sam, for dragging you -- Dean and Cas too; everyone -- into our mess."

Sam's eyes dart back up to meet Lucifer's, and the silence folds in around them, heavy and oppressive. He has no idea how to respond to that....

A sigh shudders out from Cas, breaking the dreadful quiet. Lucifer and Sam both turn to watch as tension edges in along the sleeping angel's limbs, his brows drawing together as though from pain.

It occurs to Sam that if Lucifer is dreamwalking, then maybe this is really Cas as well, and not some mental projection or delusion.

Cas twists onto his side, his wings thumping to the ground with obvious weight. A wet cough draws Sam's eyes away from the dark feathers and up to Castiel's now open, blank gaze. Another cough and fluid splatters against the ground. The stuff drips from his ears and nose, flows from his eyes like inky tears.

"Cas!" Sam moves without thinking.

"Sam, don't-"

The panic threaded through Lucifer's voice stops Sam in his tracks. Cas is shining brightly, but black puddle stains the ground beneath Cas, and Sam falls to his knees, horrified. "What the _Hell_ is going on here? I thought they were-"

"Gone?"

A hand tugs urgently at Sam's shoulder. He hadn't noticed Lucifer draw near enough to touch, but he scrabbles toward the archangel as the oily substance spreads, stealing toward them like it's alive and searching for prey.

Then Cas seizes up and the puddle reverses, flowing back into him. Wings beat against the ground --there's so much of it! There's no way it could have all come from, much less fit within Cas' vessel-

"The Leviathan are gone. What remains is basically toxic waste. The residue affects his Grace -- on a different plane, if you will -- so in the real world you're safe. Here? Well, I suggest you not find out," Lucifer says as he crouches down, his eyes glued to his writhing sibling. "Eventually, he'll work it out of his system -- not within _your_ lifetime," he adds, glancing at Sam. "With the way he's going, the next big bang could come and go, and he'll still, well-"

Lucifer gestures at Cas as the light dims around them.

Shivering, Cas pulls his knees up and tucks his unhindered wing around himself as though the creeping chill could be chased away so easily.

The last time Sam remembers Cas reacting to -- even noticing -- the temperature was when the angel was Falling. "There must be something we can do to help him."

"Why do you care?" Lucifer asks with such ease.

Sam jerks around, his anger rising with an alarming intensity, but the bitterness and sorrow he finds hidden in Lucifer's expression resonates far too deeply with Sam, and the words catch in his throat. He sighs, exhaling as much of his frustration as he can, and looks back to Cas. "Lucifer, please."

"Yes, but-" Sam can feel the archangel studying him "-it has to be a group effort. You guys are pretty terrible at that."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, come on, Sam. Like you said, you're all broken," Lucifer complains. Sam glares in return, which just prompts Lucifer into poking him in the chest again. "You have a hole that needs to be filled; Castiel thinks he deserves to die; and Dean exists only to protect you both, which, let's be reasonable here, is brave but stupid considering anything that could take out Castiel would tear through your brother without a second thought. You are all surviving for the sake of each other, yet not a one of you remembers what it means to _live._ "

Lucifer crawls toward Cas, reaching out tentatively to brush the hair away from his worried brow. When nothing terrible happens, Lucifer sits and gently rearranges the dark wings so he can rest Cas' head in his lap.

Heartache strikes Sam, hard and fast, making his chest constrict as he watches on. None of this is fair, and he can't bring himself to place much blame on the archangel as much as he probably should. Cas shifts, turning into the touch when Lucifer cups his face.

"How is he here anyway? Did you-"

"No." He snorts as his hands begin to glow. "Cas is certainly... peculiar. You all need to remember what you fought for, why you jumped into the Pit. Not because it was right, but _why it was right._ "

Sam watches for a few minutes before asking, "What are you doing?"

Lucifer shrugs. "What I can with the time left."

Sam sits up with enough force that his knees knock against the underside of the table. He has no idea how long he's been out, but someone cleared away the remnants of their breakfast without waking him up.

Cas is sitting opposite him, staring out the window. Glancing outside, Sam sees Dean working on the Impala once again.

Confused, Sam tilts his head. "Have you been sitting here the who-"

"Good morning, sunshine-" Lucifer sings in his ear, and Sam grits his teeth and shuts his eyes as black fluid bleeds from Cas' face "-did you sleep well?"

"Lucifer says hello," Castiel says evenly, and Sam's eyes fly open in shock.

Other than looking concerned, Cas seems fine. Sam's words still come out sounding strangled. "What do you mean by that, Cas?"

Remorse crosses the angel's face. "Dean said I needed to try to lighten up, but I suppose I should avoid attempts at humor. Did you sleep well?"

Sam doesn't know how to reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking so long to get around to. Life is being a real pain in the ass at the moment.

The world sounds too far away, and the darkness is suffocating. The moon is absent, and the only light that filters in through the motel window comes from the occasional freight truck that rumbles along down the highway. 

Dean shifts restlessly, rolls onto his side, and stares at the shadowy form of his brother wrapped beneath layers of blankets on the other bed. It had been awhile since they've done any hunting, but Sam hadn't broken down in weeks, and Bobby thought several deaths in Chicago were tied to a reliquary that had been recently acquired by the Holy Name Cathedral. 

What should have been a simple salt and burn turned out to be a trap set by the leviathans. 

The two creatures were "tasked with removing the Winchester brothers from the equation" – whatever that meant – and the hunters ended up getting tossed around like ragdolls. 

Cas had shown up just in time to snatch Sam out of the air before he crashed into one of the columns surrounding the nave. Even with Cas' help, they only managed to take out one of the monsters, with Cas holding the creature, allowing Dean to behead it. The other leviathan escaped, but at least nobody had been seriously injured. 

_Or eaten_. Though eating humans is pretty standard for monsters, Cas assures him that with leviathans it's _different._

The rustle of a falling blanket pulls Dean from his thoughts, and he holds back a sigh as Cas pads quietly to the bathroom for the fifth time in the last two hours. Cas still doesn't need to sleep but resting quietly in the same room seems to put them all little more at ease. 

Dean follows and listens to the sound of water splashing in the sink as he tries to figure out what to do next. The door is broken and doesn't latch properly, allowing light to spill through. Once Dean's eyes adjust to the brightness, he pushes the door open and steps inside. When the angel fails to acknowledge his presence, Dean really begins to worry. 

Cas is wearing only his shirt and slacks, and he alternates between staring at his face in the mirror and checking his perfectly clean hands. Then, he leans forward, his eyes falling shut wearily. "Cas?" 

Castiel, badass motherfucking angel of the Lord, jumps. Not expecting that kind of reaction (then again, he should know better by now than to make assumptions about the nature of angels) Dean jumps as well, then cringes when the ceramic sink creaks with the unnatural strength of Cas' clenched fingers. 

"Cas...." 

"Dean," Cas notes, then catches Dean's gaze in the mirror. "I'm fine." 

A tremor runs up Cas' arms as though he's trying to suppress an insistent itch. 

"That ain't fine, Cas," Dean says, attempting to smooth the uncertainty from his voice. He reaches out and gives what he hopes is a comforting squeeze to Cas' neck. Energy prickles along the skin of his palm. He has to fight down the urge to pull away, but the angel shudders. Dean’s eyes flick up once more to find Cas glaring at him, agitated. 

Suddenly, Cas whirls around and pushes Dean away, opening the distance between them. "We've talked about this, Dean, personal-" 

"Don't give me that," Dean says, his fingers closing around Cas' wrists and holding him still. 

The color suddenly drains from Castiel's face, his pupils dilating unnaturally wide as he sways forward. Dean grabs for him, scrabbling to keep the angel upright, giving him a solid shake for good measure. "Cas?" 

When he gets no response, he angles Cas' face up for a better look. "Cas, damn it, answer-" 

Cas inhales sharply, animating as though he's sucking life back into himself instead of air. 

The tension bleeds out of Dean. "Jesus." 

"Don't!" Cas jerks away, stumbling back into the counter. Dean reaches out to steady him, but Cas shifts his weight away and, with an emphatic glare, repeats, "Don't." 

"What?" Dean asks. He draws back anyway. 

"Just-" Cas' eyes slide shut and he sighs "-don't _touch_ me." 

"What's going on?" 

Cas disappears. 

Dean rushes through the door, half expecting to find Cas standing in the middle of the room. Instead, he comes face-to-face with Sam, standing against the same wall where Dean had been only a few minutes before. 

"Dean, what's going on?" 

"Didn't mean to wake you up," Dean answers as he brushes past his brother. He pulls on his boots and grabs his keys and wallet. "Cas is- oh, hell, I don't even know. Your guess is probably better than mine." 

"You're going to go look for him?" 

"No, Sam, I thought I'd go find a bar and drink my way into oblivion," Dean snaps. He releases his breath when Sam's normally hulking form attempts to sink into the wall. "I don't know what to do, but I shouldn't take it out on you." He moves forward, ducking his head to catch Sam's averted gaze. "Sorry, man. I'm just gonna go for a drive to clear my head." 

"You're not going to find him if he doesn't want to be found." 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

"Not bound by the laws of physics, remember? He could be hiding on the moon – or further! – for all you know." 

"Bet if I go looking for that escaped leviathan, he'll show up pretty quick," Dean mutters. 

Fear crosses Sam's face. "Dean...." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just-" Dean says with a casual wave of his hand – and now Sam is refusing to look at him. "Sam." 

...or he's possibly caught in another hallucination. That hits Dean hard, realizing that his own flippant attitude might be affecting his brother just as much as Sam's trips from reality are scaring Dean. He snatches Sam's hand into his and runs his thumb along the scar there, lightly, because the point is to ground his brother, not hurt him. 

"Sam? Hey, I'm sorry," he apologizes again, and Sam's eyes focus back on Dean. "Really. You want to come along?" 

"I- I'll just wait here and... do some research." 

\------ 

Sam didn't say _in case Cas comes back here,_ but that's what Dean hears repeating through his head as he drives out to the edge of the city. There's a good chance he's just projecting so he pushes the thoughts away. 

He can't help but feel guilty, though he doesn't know whether this whole situation could've been avoided since he _still_ doesn't know how he managed to chase Cas off. 

"Like you're capable of handling this sort of thing any better when you do have all the facts," says Crowley from the back seat. 

Dean slams on the brakes, the momentum flinging them both forward until the car comes to a stop. "I get that y'all are nearly immortal, but one of these days I'm going to get into serious wreck if y'all keep popping in like that." 

"I have faith in your ability to control this monster vehicle," Crowley retorts. 

Eyeing the demon from his rearview mirror, Dean snaps, "What the hell do you want?" 

"I've brought a peace offering," Crowley says, lifting a covered platter that Dean is certain wasn’t in the car a second ago. With a flourish, Crowley reveals the bloated, roasted head of the escaped leviathan. "...of sorts." 

It smells awful, a mixture of scorched flesh, brine, and brimstone, and Dean closes his eyes, attempting to keep the contents of his stomach where they are. He rolls down the windows, shifts the car out of park, and peals out across the blacktop to get the air moving. "Get out." 

"Not a fan of the "head on a silver platter" gesture, I take it," Crowley asks, a snide smile on his face, but he lifts his hands in surrender, the offending item vanished. "How _did_ you manage to kill the other one anyway?" 

"I have no problem with stabbing you in the face," declares Dean as he unsheathes Ruby's knife. He can't make Crowley leave, and he'd most likely lose if he tried, but he really hopes the demon decides to test his patience. 

"You're sure it's dead, right?" 

Dean's gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror again. "Yeah. Cas helped us out." 

"And?" 

"And what?" The hunter's brow furrows. "We beheaded the thing then disposed of the gooey bits." 

Crowley's eyes widen. "And? Is he okay?" 

"Of course he is-" Dean slams on the brakes again. He turns to face Crowley. "What's going on with Cas?" 

"Why don't you ask him?" Crowley says, looking somewhere other than at the hunter. 

Dean tries to stare a hole into the side of the demon's head, but cautiously, he admits, "He ain't talking. Won't let me near him either." 

Crowley shoots his own snarling, black look at the hunter. "What did you do now-" but he breaks off just as suddenly, his gaze dropping and his expression going cold as he turns his thoughts inward. "You didn't, by chance, get any of the leviathan's blood on you, did you?" 

"Yeah. Well, I mean, we cut off the damn thing's head, and we weren't exactly expecting to-" 

"And Cas?" Crowley says, his impatience obvious. 

Locking eyes with the King of Hell, Dean nods. 

"Oh, for the love of all that is-" Crowley flails angrily, stomping his feet against the floor of the car. 

"What do you care?" Dean asks, raising his voice above Crowley's tantrum. 

"I don't!" Crowley bellows, slamming his hand against the seat. He takes a deep breath, and when he's visibly composed, he glances back up. "Leviathans are poisonous to angels. They deplete grace – _kill_ angels." 

"I- I did not know that." 

"Of course not. Why should you?" 

Anger sparks in Dean's chest, and he narrows his eyes. "Why would I trust anything you say? You still haven't explained-" 

"Your angel is diseased, Winchester," Crowley says, talking over Dean, "has been since the leviathans used him as a vessel. Like with goldfish, if the aquarium isn't cleaned on a regular basis, they'll muck up the place until nothing else can live – surprisingly hardy creatures, though. I can't imagine why anyone would want to keep the filthy things as pets." 

"He ain't my angel," Dean snaps, unsure of how to respond to any of the information he's been given; at least he now has _some_ idea why Cas fled from him though. "I washed the blood off...." 

"It _lingers,_ numbskull," Crowley scoffs. Then he calms down again, snorting as he clasps his hands together in his lap. "Oh, by the way, I heard through the grapevine that Moose and Lucifer recently had a little reunion. How'd that go?" When shock spreads across Dean's face, Crowley feigns astonishment. "Didn't know? Can't say I'm much surprised by that." 

"Damn it!" Dean turns around and smacks the flat of his hand against the steering wheel. 

A sigh fills the space, as though Crowley has been imposed upon. "If I may, Dean: don't run back to that awful little motel room half-cocked and looking for a fight, as though you're the only injured party here-" Dean opens his mouth to argue, but he falls silent again when Crowley levels a grim look his way. "You do. Why else do you think your loved ones keep such important information from you? They aren't children. None of you are innocent." 

Dean’s eyes flick forward, but he's not paying attention to the expanse of road ahead of him, lost in his own thoughts as he is. Crowley sits impassively in the back seat, watching, but at least he remains quiet. 

Then, Dean swipes a hand across his face. "How long will it take for him to recover? Don't want to try hunting until that weird electrical thing passes – it's distracting." 

He looks at Crowley in the mirror again and catches the speculative look the demon is eyeing him with. 

"Might want to get that checked out, mate. That doesn't sound normal." With that, Crowley disappears. 

Slumping against the wheel, Dean wonders whether there is some way to remove the stench of burnt leviathan. "Asshole..." he mutters. 

\------ 

It's still early, the sun resting just below the horizon when he gets back. He's frazzled and weary, but the demon's advice springs to mind – he tamps down on his simmering temper. 

Given the state Sam was in when Dean left, he decides to knock on the door, not expecting much in the way of an answer. He certainly doesn't expect the scene before him once his eyes adjust to the dim half-light that filters in through the thin curtains. 

Sam _is_ back in bed, but his eyes are wide and alert (and not currently reflecting any hellish memories like Dean had assumed), and fixed to the ceiling. He glances over when Dean enters the room and pulls a flustered face. Cas is curled against his side, his head pillowed by Sam's shoulder. 

Blinking, Dean comes to a stop, confusion dissipating his anger. He opens his mouth, but Sam gives a determined shake of his head, his eyes darting briefly toward the angel. 

Dean responds by lifting a brow, and Sam answers with a gentle shrug. 

As he steps soundlessly toward the pair, he grabs the blanket from where it still rests on the floor by the couch. Lines of discomfort crease Cas' forehead and Dean doesn't think before reaching out to smooth them away, but Cas jerks under his touch, a pained noise slipping past his lips. 

Frowning, Dean snatches his hand back, then spreads the blanket across them both, avoiding the concern with which Sam regards him. 

When he turns towards his own bed, he's prepared to flop down and sleep for a week straight but he glances back at his brother, his expression stern. He indicates, through gestures that are familiar from years of communicating silently during hunts, that he intends for words to pass between them when they're less fatigued. 

Despite the tension, Sam rolls his eyes. Dean ignores that in favor of pulling his blankets back, putting Sam and Cas at his back. He can feel his brother studying him as his exhaustion finally takes over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part has not been proofread. Also, some abuse of science for my own means.

After Dean leaves, Sam feels empty, useless. Flopping onto the bed, he opens his laptop, then proceeds to find little information of any use. Lucifer mocks him occasionally from the corner of the room. He seems to be curtailing his efforts, though, singing hymns off-key and changing words so the praises become blasphemy. 

This Lucifer seems nothing like the archangel who had used him as a vessel. He prattles on constantly, dredging up anything and everything Sam knows. If Lucifer didn't occasionally supply odd tidbits of information that Sam had never learned, he'd think this was an illusion invented entirely by his own mind. 

"-way is to get an aqueous solution of sodium borate ‒ that's a type of salt, by the way, an ionic salt, not table-" 

He doesn't want to interact with Lucifer since it only seems to urge the archangel on, but this particular lecture seems even more inane than usual. "I know what salt is." 

Lucifer snorts. "Rude much? As I was saying, _not table salt._ Anyway, the solution forces an oxidation state change ‒ kind of like holy water does with demons, only less metaphysical, which I guess wouldn't actually be oxidation so much as-" Lucifer sweeps his hands through the air as though he's wiping something aside "-beside the point. Really, the best way to fight off the leviathans is to use-" 

"Borax," Castiel says. 

Sam blinks in surprise at the angel's sudden appearance, and then he shakes his head. "What?" 

"We need to find borax," he explains, taking a step closer. "It's the most effective way to fight off-" 

"-the leviathans," Sam finishes, and Castiel tilts his head to the side, frowning. "That's not exactly common knowledge. How did you...?" 

"I- well- it's not important," Sam says, standing up and moving closer to Castiel. "You're looking much better." 

"I went to take a dust bath in Searles Lake. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Borax nullifies the effects of the leviathan's blood." 

Sam tries to erase the image of the angel rolling around and flapping his wings in the powdered minerals like a bird from his mind, and Lucifer giggles. The hunter glares at him, and Lucifer grins back. 

His curious eyes follows Sam's gaze, and Castiel's frown deepens. "Are you alright?" 

"Yes, I'm fine." He taps his temple, then indicates to Lucifer. "Just, you know, crazy. Remember?" 

Castiel's expression softens. "Sam, I'm so-" 

"Don't. Just... don't," Sam orders, bringing a hand up to stop the angel. He reaches out to clasp Castiel's shoulder. He hadn't intended to cast any blame, but he doesn’t have a good handle on this situation. "Dean is worried about you." 

Castiel looks away, ashamed. "He just wouldn't stop... touching me. The leviathans ‒ we really should go find the one that escaped." 

"My Father cast the leviathans into purgatory because they enjoyed murdering His angels," Lucifer breaks in, chuckling. He sobers up quickly though. "If you could see what your angel _really_ looks like right now, you'd weep." Then he shrugs. "More so than you usually do, you big baby. Wait, is there a term for baby mooses? Meeses?" 

"Moose," Sam corrects automatically, then the other words sink in. "Wait, what?" 

"Kind of makes you wonder why God would make monsters capable of devouringthe earth down to nothing, that can destroy his own favorite creations so easily ‒ favorites at the time, of course," Lucifer says, tapping a finger against his chin. "Maybe he didn't. Create them, I mean. One has to wonder." 

Not even Lucifer would speak against his Father like that. This Lucifer is much too confusing for Sam to parse out, but he glances at Castiel anyway. The other angel seems fine now ‒ concerned and wary, considering Sam's behavior, but fine. 

"His real form, dumbass. Have you ever seen what human flesh looks like when eaten away by acid?" Lucifer says, tossing his hand toward Castiel. "Did you know he and Dean have a thing for each other?" 

Sam glances back at Castiel, and he inhales sharply at what he sees. Black liquid drips from the angel's ears, traces along beneath his skin like blood in his veins. He closes his eyes when Castiel says his name. 

"I wouldn't call it blood. The leviathans aren't so much alive like you or, well... me. I've seen angels drenched in the stuff, screaming as it burns them away. Watching that is _not_ a fun experience, let me tell you." 

Sam’s eyes fly open at the words. He chokes as Lucifer wraps his arms around the other angel's shoulders. Castiel willingly settles back into the embrace of his sibling. 

"You didn't answer my question, Sam," Lucifer chides, his hand closing around Castiel's throat. He squeezes, and Castiel doesn't struggle, even as his eyes turn black when the capillaries there finally burst. 

He hears Castiel call his name again, but Castiel is standing right there, a few feet away, silent and motionless within Lucifer's grasp. Sam feels a strong, tangible hand grab his, and the awful figures blur out of focus. He gasps in surprise, and the touch abruptly withdraws. 

The archangel presses his a hand over Castiel's heart and his fingers disappear, sinking into the vessel's chest. Castiel's head drops back to Lucifer's shoulder, his mouth falling open and his eyes flashing a brilliant blue as his grace is pulled out. It clings to the body, as though trying to find a way back to Castiel, then he starts violently as Lucifer severs the remaining threads with a brutal jerk that rips it all loose. 

"Wait," Sam whispers, not sure if he's directing the word at the archangel or calling back that fleeting yet _substantial_ touch. 

Those fingers wrap around his wrist again, but this time the image flickers only briefly. Castiel's head snaps up, but he's not Castiel anymore, grinning garishly and twitching as myriad leviathans writhe beneath the surface of his flesh. Tendrils of grace twine around Lucifer's fingers as he holds it captive in the palm of his hand, and he leers at Sam. 

A whimper breaks from Sam's throat. He knows this isn't actually happening, but sometimes his reality starts to crumble, and it's hard for him to snap himself out of these nightmares. "Again, Cas. Do that ag-" 

Hands frame his face, sending static dancing across the ugly vision, and the real Castiel is standing right up in Sam's personal space with a worrisome expression upon his face. He's determined ‒ about what, Sam doesn't know, but he's about to step away when Castiel presses a kiss to his brow. 

A hot wind sweeps through his soul, finding the torn edges and stitching them back together again. The tempest within him turns cool and crisp, a benediction to soothe him as Castiel's grace withdraws. When Sam glances up, the hallucinations fracture, becoming flat and dimensionless with long, spiraling lines that spread like spider webs across their bodies. Then, they explode into glittering shards of light. 

"I am truly sorry," Castiel says, his hands sliding to Sam's chest for support; he makes as though to push away, but Sam grabs Castiel's wrists gently and holds him in place. There's an honesty in Castiel's words that echo back to Sam with every beat of his heart, perceptible only because of that short, sweet contact between grace and soul. 

The angel looks ashen and haggard, and for that, Sam feels guilty. While he appreciates the help, he hadn't asked for it ‒ never does, because he knows that sometimes it just won't do any good. First Dean and now Castiel ‒ they seem too willing to go to exhaustive lengths, only taking short timeouts when the stress finally makes them snap. Sam sighs. "Cas-" 

The angel crumples and Sam scrambles to catch him. Castiel is much heavier than he looks, which sends Sam tripping backwards over his own feet. He lands on the bed, narrowly missing his laptop, with Castiel passed out cold, completely deadweight in Sam's arms. 

"Cas?" The hunter shakes the unmoving form draped across him. He gets no answer. "Castiel? Damn it...." 

Who knows how long Dean will be gone, or what's wrong with Castiel. Sam hopes the angel just needs some sleep to recover his strength. He nudges his computer out of the way, then hauls 

Castiel toward the head of the bed, settling back against the pillows, and too tired, at this point, to bother with the blankets. 

\------ 

He wakes up around dawn, then hears a knock at the door. Dean, most likely. Sam tries to slide out from Castiel, but the angel shifts restlessly against him so he stays put. 

Not surprisingly, he and Dean get into an argument without saying a thing, but Sam brushes it off. Something else has happened, he just knows it, but Dean is doing a remarkable job of keeping it to himself despite the range of emotions that flicker across his face. They promise to deal with it later. 

\------ 

"Dean, how do you forget that the King of Hell just popped into your car and-" 

"I've been preoccupied!" Dean says, pointing between Sam and Castiel. 

"But the other leviathan is dead?" 

"Yeah...." 

"Good." 

"Good? There's nothing good about it, Sam. Well, the part where another leviathan is dead is, sure, but when the _King of Hell_ just pops into your car after taking responsibility for your own business? That tends to come with strings attached!" 

"Is this why you've been so jumpy? I mean yeah, you should've told me sooner but-" he shrugs. 

Dean eyes him for a moment. "That's part of it. Look, we'll get to it when Cas wakes up. He's a part of this too, and we shouldn't go forming opinions about things we know little about," Dean grumps. 

Sam nods carefully, watching his brother for signs that he's really a shapeshifter, or possibly under some sort of spell that makes him more reasonable and agreeable against his will. "Okay." 

"...so, why's he laid out in bed?" 

"Well, after you left, Lucifer had been nagging at me ‒ nothing too serious ‒ but when Cas blipped back in, well-" Sam shudders at the memory "-things got pretty bad, and he... did something." 

"What do you mean?" 

Shaking his head, Sam glances back to where Castiel continues to sleep. "I don't know. It's kind of like like what Death did? Less like a wall and more like my soul has been glued back together." 

"And you haven't seen any... weird stuff since?" 

"Depends on your definition of _weird stuff,_ Dean," Sam says, a small smile gracing his lips. "No hell baggage though." 

Dean's gaze lands on Castiel as well, his face pinched and angry. 

"Dean-" 

"This was the two of you. I ain't sleeping on the couch." 

\------ 

Days pass without Castiel waking, and Dean and Sam decide to stick around the place instead since moving around with an unconscious angel would leave them vulnerable to attack. If either of the Winchesters leaves for very long, Castiel tosses and turns. 

Dean hadn't been serious, and they've been taking turns on the couch. It's Sam's turn, and his third night. Occasionally, the motels they stay in will have a decent sized couch, but this one barely counts as a loveseat, and he's just too tall to sleep on it. Sam gives up on it. 

He kicks off the blankets and grabs his pillow, determined to get some decent sleep. It's not like he and Dean haven't ever shared a bed before. 

But Dean is taking up all the space, sprawled across the mattress like a giant, freckled starfish, meaning his brother is in a kicking mood tonight. The little couch would provide Sam with better rest. 

Then, Castiel shifts, rolling onto his side as though he's reading Sam's mind despite being asleep. It's not like Sam hasn't ever shared a bed with Castiel either, even if it was just the one time and the angel was seemingly unaware.... 

Castiel is smaller than Dean anyway, and Sam doesn't think the angel will mind, given the circumstances. He gets into the bed, turning onto his side and faced toward the wall, leaving a space between them just in case Castiel _does_ mind. The beds aren't _that_ big and- 

A warm back shoves in against his, ruining the need for his internal rationalization. He just hopes Castiel doesn't sleep-smite. 

\------ 

Sam wakes the next morning to find bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. He feels refreshed for the first time in way too long. He's also warm and cozy, considering Castiel is curled along his side, laying half across the hunter. His chin presses into Sam's shoulder, which should be uncomfortable but isn't. None of this is. 

A scraping sound draws his attention to the other side of the room. 

Dean is sitting at the table by the window, his arms fold across the top and his head tilted to one side, rested against an elbow. The cup of coffee nearby seems forgotten as he watches them, or rather, kind of looks through them, the corner of his lips turning up into a tiny little smile. 

When he realizes Sam is looking back, he sits up and wraps his his hands around the mug, his gaze darting over to something outside the window. 

Suddenly, Castiel sits up, and Dean startles, nearly spilling his coffee everywhere. "Dude, Cas, you've been asleep for nearly-" 

"-a week. Yes, I know." Castiel frowns. 

"How do you...?" 

Sam rolls his eyes, and so does Castiel, if the tone of his voice is anything to go by. "Much like you know after sleeping that the next morning is the next morning. I'm just more aware of the passage of time than humans- well, you." 

Dean gapes, then his eyes narrow as he snaps, "Yeah, okay. So what's going on with Sammy now?" 

The angel's fingers brush against his temple as Sam pulls himself upright, and he feels the touch of grace against his soul. Castiel looks crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't completely succeed." 

"In what? And, please, stop apologizing, Cas," sighs Sam. 

"I tried to mend your soul, but apparently I'm not strong enough. It's not permanent." 

"All right," Sam starts but Dean speaks over him, "Hold on, hold on. Why _exactly_ did that put you out of commission ‒ for a week, no less?" 

"I didn't think it would. I didn't think I'd expend so much-" 

"Energy?" Dean fills in, then his eyes widen. "Your grace?" 

"For all intents and purposes, it's the same-" 

"I don't think you did think about it, Cas." Dean cuts in. "I'm willing to bet you acted without thinking at all. Which you-" he slaps his hand against the table "-damn it, learned from us." 

"Dean, I may have been fulfilling what I thought to be God's will before, but I'm not some impressionable child. I'm millions of years old, and I act of my own conscious volition, then and now," Castiel reminds, his tone stern. "Besides, Sam asked for help." 

"That's not- I mean-" Sam stutters out as he rounds on Castiel, feeling guilty all over again. He can feel Dean's eyes turn to him, gauging him. "I was fine when you left, Dean!" 

"And we are all _fine_ for the time being," Castiel adds. 

Crossing his arms in irritation does nothing to erase the look of fear hiding in Dean's eyes. "That's not the point!" 

"What is the point?" Cas asks, his frustration building. "Dean, I'm not even sure what we're arguing about anymore." 

"Whatever," Dean snaps, throwing his hands up in defeat. He rises, then, grabbing his packed bag, strides toward the door. 

Sam tries, "Dean-" 

"Bobby called. Come on, we've got stuff to take care of. More leviathans," he says, leveling a heavy look at Castiel. 

"Don't we need-" Sam calls after but Dean storms out, slamming the door behind him. This had gone downhill so quickly. "What the hell just happened...?"


End file.
